


permanence

by mizuki_yana



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff, Languages, M/M, Relationship Study, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizuki_yana/pseuds/mizuki_yana
Summary: Yuta likes to entertain himself by murmuring Japanese answers to imagined questions and Mark always holds him tighter as if he senses the meaning of foreign confessions.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126
Collections: Challenge #5 - I heard a secret..





	permanence

Yuta knows Mark tries to sneak in by how purposefully quietly he closes the front door, waiting a few seconds after shutting it to listen if he hears any movement in the corridor before turning the key in the lock. Naturally, on his forward turn he stumbles into a strewed shoe; as he tries to gain his balance back he stomps his foot on the tiles, a loud smack cutting into the warm silence of the apartment. Whispered curses flow out of Mark’s mouth, English, and he leans to put the errant article back to its proper place before tiptoeing into the kitchen.

“You know we probably wouldn’t notice even if you slammed the door shut?”

Mark yelps and with lightning reflexes he smacks his hand onto the light switch to douse the kitchen in harsh led light. Yuta has to squint because of the sudden brightness, having spent the last few hours staring at the screen of his phone on night mode, too lazy to get up from his place at the table to do anything remotely productive.

“Jesus Christ hyung, what even are you doing in the pitch dark? I thought you would be asleep by now.”

Mark’s voice is hushed, breathy and buckles over halfway into the sentence as he still clutches his chest, heart probably running a mile a minute after that accidental scare Yuta couldn’t help but snicker at. This moment couldn’t have played out better if he planned it, and he really didn’t mean to wait up for his boyfriend; he just happened to get lost in the deepest pits of the internet until the odd hours crept up on him. It’s not that he minds though, because this way he can just beckon him closer until he’s hugging his waist under his open furry jacket, still crouched on a kitchen chair, smiling into Mark’s hoodie when his fingers come down to furrow into his hair.

“I told you that I’d be back late, why aren’t you sleeping yet?” Mark murmurs as he places a kiss on the top of Yuta’s head, and he sighs, cherishing the small gesture.

“I don’t know honestly… but I’m glad I ran into you; I haven’t really seen you in a while.”

With the work for their newest album, all the recordings, dance practices and other shootings, Yuta also having the radio show and Mark even more swamped with Dream schedules and the preparations for a SuperM comeback on top of everything; they just haven’t had the time spend time together, without the bustle of their band members and the ever present crew. Quiet moments like this are hard to come by these days, and Yuta is glad to simply hug Mark tighter and pay attention to sync their breathing.

“We should actually sleep though…”

Even with the thought of their looming morning schedule, Yuta’s reluctant to peel himself off Mark, so instead he loops his hands around the back of his knees and pulls him between his own legs, the younger’s kneecaps bumping into the seat of the chair. At the contact Mark winces forcefully as if whipped, leaning back out of Yuta’s touch. He lifts a knee in the air to brush it over with his fingers, awfully like trying to rub away the pain and Yuta instinctively tries to help, hands flying in to hold the joint in place.

“Are you injured? Did you sprain it at practice? Why isn’t it bandaged?”

Mark quickly recovers, one hand pushing away Yuta’s, fingers interlocking to make sure he doesn’t try to dive back in, the other still stroking his knee, but already standing back up on two legs, shifting his weight as if checking if they’ll buckle under him. When he answers he coughs, clearing his throat a few times, voice just on the verge of too eager.

“Yeah, there is a tricky bit in the new choreography, but it’s nothing, a slight sore only, it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

Mark’s really terrible at lying. It’s no surprise to Yuta, but he still searches Mark’s face, tries to determine the level of seriousness of the situation. At the younger’s sheepish smile, he loosens and nods, then leans in to kiss him, understanding. He knows not to push because that’ll drive Mark further away, getting stressed instead of letting Yuta in on his problems and he trusts him enough to take care of himself when needed.

Mark melts into the kiss, waves of leftover jittery energy reeling off of him, leaving only exhaustion behind. Feeling the change in tension Yuta rubs soothing circles into his nape, failing to suppress a chuckle when Mark sags against him, eyes closed.

“Come on, I’m not hauling your body into bed if you fall asleep standing up.”

Mark whines, nosing at Yuta’s neck with closed eyes. “You’ll cuddle me thought?”

“Why is that a question, Mark Lee?”

***

Next time Mark comes home early enough to catch Yuta in the living room, rewatching One Piece episodes, craving something familiar to ground his excitement over the coming comeback enough so that he can shut his eyes without going over the choreography in his head. It’s late enough that Taeil and Jungwoo have gone to sleep already, but too early for Jaehyun to arrive back from shooting; Yuta’s still trying to be thoughtful by connecting his air pods to the TV instead of blasting the sound over speakers.

Mark leans into him when he plops down next to him on the sofa, a leg hooked across Yuta’s thigh and even though his skin tingles warmly at the contact, he purposefully keeps his eyes glued on the screen.

It’s not fatigue, not like when Mark sneaks into his room and under his cover after they’ve said good night, moulding himself into the space in between Yuta’s arms for the feeling of extra safety and comfort. Sometimes, drifting in and out of sleep he’ll mumble something about whirlwinds and constants and how it’s difficult to navigate life, but Yuta doesn’t understand most of it because Mark’s brain has already switched off for the day and operates automatically in English. These times Yuta likes to entertain himself by murmuring Japanese answers to imagined questions and Mark always holds him tighter as if he senses the meaning of foreign confessions.

Now it’s something else entirely though, because Yuta can tune in to Mark’s surge of neediness from miles, and his experience tells him that playing up the act makes it even more enjoyable. The small sigh that leaves Mark’s throat proves his instincts right.

“How was the recording?”

Mark all but burrows into his side, making the extra effort to lift up Yuta’s arm to wrap it around his own shoulders. Yuta lets out a grin. The uptempo songs and cocky stage persona always leave Mark wound up, looking for ways to burn his energy into, limbs restless, patience worn thin, and it’s all too easy to rile him up even more at this state that Yuta can’t be blamed for giving in to the fun.

“'t was alright… The Dream lyrics are getting more explicit too, it was kinda weird…”

Yuta laughs, and finally stops the episode mid-fight, dropping his earbuds on the offset coffee table.

“And whose fault is that, really? I didn’t see you complaining about our album…”

He clasps his fingers on Mark’s knee as he teases, only to surprisedly pull them back when Mark jerks, whimpering a faint ‘ouch’ in front of himself. He looks equally startled for a moment, then blushes rapidly and shoves his head back into the crook of Yuta’s neck.

“It’s different when it’s Japanese though…”

“Ninety percent of your own lines are in English. How’s your leg?”

Because of how they are pressed flushed together, Yuta feels Mark’s frustrated groan on his chest, and even though he chuckles, he can’t shut up his worries completely. He knows the younger downplayed the situation a few days ago, but if it’s still painful enough then maybe someone should take a look, right? But then Mark suddenly retreats only to crawl into his lap properly, straddling one leg, knee pressed against Yuta’s crotch, and he has to reevaluate what priorities to focus on momentarily. Clearly Mark is not injured enough if his knee can support his weight, so Yuta decides to just enjoy the lips travelling up along his artery, rather in small bites than kisses.

“Don’t worry about it, just… come on…”

Mark is almost shaking in pent up buzz, grinding down on Yuta’s thigh shamelessly while sneaking eager hands under his shirt, blunt nails scratching up a path to his nipples, and Yuta shudders from the whiplash of the pace, the calmness of the living room from a few minutes ago already burning up. His ears try to pick up any noise from behind Mark to see if anyone else took hint of what’s going on outside their doors, but there’s only silence, in which Mark’s whine seems all that louder.

“You really don’t care if someone hears us, huh?"

“…it’s not like they’ve never heard us yet…”

Incredulous, Yuta laughs, because it's true, but he's come a long way witnessing Mark slowly losing his myriad layers of inhibitions. Then he gives in, incredibly affected by the way Mark squirms downwards enough to be able to lean in and lick over one of Yuta's butterflies inked on his abdomen, especially when he glances down to his face in time to see it lit up with fascination as he traces a brave finger over the black outlines. Yuta's always been a sensitive person, focusing on touch first and foremost and seeing his habits reflected in Mark gives him an extreme feeling of affection, the realization of his own influence settling deep into his consciousness, strangely warm and satisfying.

Mark doesn’t stop at the tattoos though, he slides down from Yuta’s lap to the floor, pulling down his sweatpants with the same momentum together with his underwear, just enough so that he can comfortable wrap his hand around Yuta’s half-hard cock. His impatience makes his strokes a little erratic and Yuta hisses at the painful friction, skin still too dry for the movement. Mark doesn’t hesitate to lean in then, swipe his tongue flat under Yuta’s cock from base to tip; he seems pleased with how it reacts to his endeavours, growing hard quickly. It’s enchanting, to see how Mark always zeroes in to what he does, his focus unwavering, as if his world narrows down to the thing in front of him, blurring everything else to background.

Yuta watches as Mark drizzles a glob of spit on the head and spreads it downwards before taking it into his mouth, tongue swirling around to find a prominent vein and massage it, knowing that it’s a sensitive point. He tries to swallow down a moan, and lets his head drop to the back of the sofa, reaching his fingers to stroke Mark’s cheek, to feel how it stretches around his cock. His thoughts start to get jumbled but he catches one in passing; a wonder about how Mark is so willing, so eager to please all the time, endlessly giving while barely expecting in return. The next moment, though, Mark sinks further down so that Yuta’s cock bumps into the back of his throat and his thoughts completely lose coherence.

***

Yuta only learns about Mark’s next evening off when he slips into their room, all innocent eyes and pouty lips, but effectively kicking Taeil out for the night with a carefully worded request. Taeil’s resigned sigh is muted by the closing door, and Yuta stares at Mark in awe from where he’s splayed out on his bed, because this boldness is new and exciting.

“You got tired of Chenle’s new puppy?” he asks, because he can’t stop himself, and smirks when Mark rolls his eyes at him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

Yuta perks up. Mark seems like he’s a bit uneasy, the persuasive look on his face wilting away, leaving space for concerns.

“Does the new Dream choreography involve you erotically thrusting into the air?”

He mainly asks to lighten the mood; Yuta feels the tension building up in his boyfriend, shoulders going stiff, hands nervously fidgeting, unable to stay immobile for half a second. Mark reddens, but scoffs, and fortunately decides to cross the room and join Yuta on the bed, facing him, sitting with a leg folded underneath himself. Yuta smiles and scoots closer into kissing range, hoping to soothe the sudden tenseness. Mark leans into the kiss, hands coming up to cup Yuta’s face.

“I know I’m not the best at displaying my feelings for you…”

His eyes are closed and he murmurs the words into Yuta’s mouth like he needs them to land as fast as possible, like he can’t deal with them out in the open. Yuta watches as his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and tries to ignore the small pang in his heart at the implication that Mark thinks he’s not enough. He doesn’t interrupt though, because he feels the weight of the yet unsaid words.

“…and I’ve been really busy lately, and we haven’t really had the chance to spend time with each other, and I miss that, I miss being close to you…”

Mark jolts, opens his eyes, as if hit by a current, and shakes his head, dismissing his own argument in his mind. Yuta can almost pinpoint the exact moment when he thinks “fuck it” and retreats, hands dropping to the zipper of his pants.

“What are you on about, Mark? You’re actually perfect, you just forget it all the time.”

Mark doesn’t react because he’s already standing up, peeling the inexplicably skinny jeans off of his legs completely, and even though Yuta had plans for this to happen, he thought he would be the one to rid him of the clothing. There is a heavy silence, Mark breathing loudly through his nose instead of continuing to speak, and then when he fully kicks down the pants and twists his leg to do so, Yuta sees it.

It’s a black sign, slightly smaller than the size of Yuta’s palm, not counting his fingers. The inked lines are still crisp, strikingly standing out against Mark’s pale skin on the inside of his knee, the style reminiscent of brushstrokes, feathering out at the ends. Yuta’s mind is suddenly blank, unable to process the image without more input, so he sinks on the floor, kneels in front of Mark and brushes his fingers against the kanji.

“It's a little bit cheesy, I know, but I went to your artist and he thought it was a great idea.”

The tremble in Mark’s voice makes Yuta look up and suddenly he’s overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotions he sees in Mark’s eyes, wide and questioning. He feels his chest contract and the suspicious burn of future tears prickling behind his eyeballs, so he turns back to the tattoo, and leans closer to press his mouth against the skin.

“I was actually worried that you sprained your knee.”

A whine-like chuckle escapes Mark’s throat, and he lets his fingers caress Yuta’s hair, brushing out locks falling in his face.

“What do you think?”

It’s not completely healed, Yuta can see the small patches where the skin isn’t yet moult and it's still warmer to the touch than the surrounding area, because of the trauma the tissues had to endure. He lets his lips graze against the ink, feather light, like when checking if the nail polish is hardened up already, making Mark quiver at the delicate touch.

"Sometimes I can't believe you're real. I look at you and I wonder how did I end up at the same time, in the same place as you, what could I have possibly done in a previous life that the heavens decided to reward me with the possibility of knowing you.”

Yuta talks because that’s his way of fighting down the tears, of easing out the feeling of significance that’s threatening to burst his ribs with too profound emotions, painfully different from the banality of the daily grind he’s gotten used to in the past few months. When he’s confident he can avoid an ugly breakdown he looks up at Mark again, still kneeling in front of him, gripping the back of his calf with one hand, supporting himself on the floor with the other.

Mark’s face is glistening with the tears he hasn’t managed to mop up with the sleeve of his sweater and Yuta’s skin tingles with the intimacy of the sight, the privilege of being allowed to witness this moment settling deep in his bones.

“I love you too.”

He places the words directly on the sign, Japanese, sealing them with a kiss, and he hopes that the meaning of them will somehow heal into the wound, that he can remain the permanence that Mark believes him to be in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> so i got a new tattoo and decided to make Mark suffer the same pain  
> also, i somehow left it out, but it's 'ai' 愛 the kanji for love. yeah, i's really cheesy, sorry Mark T-T (he migh have decided to get it after Yuta named his fans ai, but he's not telling because that's part of the secret)


End file.
